


Enemy Mine

by Blue_Night



Category: Men's Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anger, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bernd and Marc-André are lawyers, Bernd and Marc-André are single fathers, Confusion, Denial of Feelings, Enemies to Lovers, Fights, Hurt/Comfort, Lawyers, M/M, Marco and Mario are footballers, Mathilda is here too, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Bernd Leno is a young lawyer and single father of a ten-year-old son, working in Joachim Löw's chancery. His happy life ends abruptly when his worst rival and archenemy from old times becomes not only his new neighbor, but also Löw's new junior partner and Bernd's colleague. He's a single father like Bernd, and Marc's son Alex joins the class of Bernd's son Oscar.To make everything much more complicated than it already is, Bernd and Marc have to work together as the lawyers of the famous married football couple Marco Reus and Mario Götze when they want to get divorced - and when they are forced to cooperate as the new trainers of Alex and Oscar's school football team when the principal Mr. Heynckes decides to teach them a lesson how to be good role models for their fighting sons...





	1. Trouble Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Khalehla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/gifts).



> Dear Khalehla,
> 
> this is what comes out when I read your Steno. I hold you entirely responsible for this! I can't believe that I even included a certain trainer in this fic I'd never ever thought that I'd ever write him. Seriously! *Shakes her head in confusion.*  
> But to make up for that, I also included my beloved Mathilda. You already know her from TIATG, and she's based on someone very, very dear to me we both know. And Oscar, I decided to let my special Oscar make a time jump and be Bernd's son in here.  
> Marc's son Alex might be or not be loosely based on Alexei, but Alexander/Alex has always been one of my favorite male names ever, so I chose it for Marc's son.  
> You'll meet Marco and Mario here too, and maybe some other players, we'll see. I chose Dortmund to be the city where this story takes place because of Marco and Mario, I hope you won't mind that.  
> The plot for this story is worked out, and I wrote this first chapter over the last days because they have been really tough and I needed some consolation. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernd is late at work and has a new, very special and famous client, but there's trouble ahead in form of his hated colleague and neighbor Marc he has to work together with for his new client, and because his son Oscar and Marc's son Alex have been fighting at school...

“Your new client is already waiting for you in your office, Bernd. I made sure that they have something to drink and a magazine to read, so no worries. They seem to be the patient kind of clients, and you look as if you could do with a cup of strong coffee before dealing with them.”

Bernd Leno smiled at the receptionist, accepting the mug with coffee Mathilda handed him over her desk. The small and slim woman with the shoulder-long brown hair was the kind fairy that kept everything together in Mr. Löw's chancery, and after mornings like the one he'd just experienced, she was his tower of strength in the stormy sea of life with her smile and her wonderful coffee.

“Thank you, Mathilda, you're a life savior, as always,” he said with a sigh, sipping carefully from the hot beverage. Burning his tongue would just add to the things that had gone wrong today. His son Oscar hadn't wanted to go to school for some reason he'd refused to share with his father, resorting to the lame excuse that he was suffering from a bad belly-ache and couldn't vist school today. It was an obvious lie, and Bernd had insisted on his ten-year old son getting dressed and ready for school because he couldn't just stay at home with his son when Oscar wasn't really sick. He needed those days he could take off and get paid for them from his health insurance for the times when Oscar was really sick and no babysitter available.

Needless to say that Oscar had done his best to make breakfast and Bernd's morning in general a truly unpleasant matter, and Bernd had already been pissed off and distressed when he'd grabbed his keys to hurry outside with a whining boy in tow. They were late, and Bernd needed to drop Oscar at his school because of their tardiness above all other things now as well.

As if Oscar's whining throughout the entire breakfast hadn't been enough to put Bernd in a foul mood, he came out of the door just to see that his neighbor had parked his car right before Bernd's driveway, making it impossible for Bernd to drive away and be punctual for work.

Bernd's neighbor was also his archenemy for as long as Bernd could remember. Marc-André ter Stegen had been his classmate for twelve terrible years during Bernd's entire time at school, and they hated each other with all their hearts from the moment on they'd met. They had been rivals in their classes, and they had been rivals in their school football teams, both of them goalkeepers, but Marc had always been the first choice before Bernd, and Bernd was still not over that yet.

After their Abitur graduation, they had eventually been able to go separate ways, and Bernd had pushed the memories of Marc into the furthest corner of his mind, going through his studies to become a lawyer without one glance back. He was still playing football, even though not on a professional level like he'd dreamed of when he had been a small boy and still thought that he would get the chance to prove that he was better than Marc one day, and he was happy with his life as one of the junior partners of Mr. Löw, one of the most famous lawyers of the city and Germany.

 

***

 

Oscar was the result of Bernd's first relationship with one of his classmates at university during his years as a student, and he'd never regretted that he'd become a father at an early age. He and Susi had worked hard on their relationship, and Bernd knew that it was all his fault that it hadn't worked out, so he'd let Susi go when she'd gotten the chance to continue her studies in the States for two years. Taking Oscar with her hadn't been possible, and Bernd had jumped into the adventure of raising him alone without thinking.

Bernd had finished his studies with best grades and the help of his family and friends looking after Oscar when he was at school or learning for his exams, and he'd put in his application for the vacant job in Mr. Löw's chancery without really believing that he would ever get the job. Mr. Löw was known as one of the best lawyers for family law in entire Germany, and Bernd had reached a crossroads after his exams, thinking that making a new start in another city would be the best for him and for Oscar.

Mathilda calling him two days after his interview with Mr. Löw had been like winning the lottery, and Bernd had packed his things and moved to Dortmund with his son without thinking. He'd found a nice house for him and Oscar to live in, where they lived for two years now. Oscar had settled in in his new school quite well, joining the school's football team and making friends easily.

Bernd was really happy with his job and his life, and everything had been perfect until three months ago, when his worst nightmare had come true and his former rival and archenemy Marc-André ter Stegen had entered the stage again, completely out of the blue, moving into the house right next to Bernd's with his son Alex during the Christmas holidays.

Ever since that day, Bernd's peace and quiet were over, and his life consisted of endless arrays of arguments and fights again, either because Marc was parking his car right before Bernd's driveway, or because he decided to mow his lawn right when Bernd was trying to work or take a nap. Trust Marc-André ter Stegen to make his life a constant living hell, and Bernd couldn't even escape him during work, because his most hated rival was also his colleague now, working for Joachim Löw as his newest junior partner after Manuel Neuer had left the chancery to open his own law office.

Bernd still remembered the day when he'd entered the lobby of the office to find Marc standing in the lobby too, flirting with Mathilda as he was trying to charm his way into her heart. He'd already been furious after four days of loud hammering, drilling holes and thumping furniture and heavy boxes from Marc's move anyway, thinking that there couldn't be a worse way to start the new year.

He'd been wrong with that, obviously, because there he'd stood, gaping at his archenemy purring cheap compliments at Mathilda, who was smiling brightly at Marc and welcoming him in the 'family' with one of her famous coffees. Hot jealousy had pooled in Bernd's stomach, and he'd needed all of his self-control not to attack Marc and punch him right in his smug face.

Mr. Löw usually informed his junior partners about his decisions when one of the junior partners left his chancery, and Bernd was sure that he would have remembered it if Mr. Löw had mentioned Marc's name, a name Bernd would never forget as long as he lived. Marc must have been here for the interview when Bernd had attended an advanced training, and he'd been too busied when he'd come back again to ask Jogi about the new partner he'd chosen. There had been more than hundred applications from young lawyers coming from every region of Germany, how big could the chances be that his enemy was one of them and even getting the job in the end? Apparently not as small as Bernd had thought them to be, and he really should have asked Löw about the interviews and the results. Or Mathilda, even though she was always careful and never revealed the secrets of their boss.

Bernd had even seriously considered looking for another job in another chancery far, far away from his biggest pain in the ass, but giving up was not really an option. He was happy here, he'd made himself a good name, and, most of all, he'd been here first. For once it was him being the number one among Mr. Löw's junior partners, not Marc, and he'd be damned if he gave up so easily and let Marc-André fucking ter Stegen win, again.

So he'd gritted his teeth when Marc had turned his head to look at him with a feigned smile plastered all over his face, telling Mathilda very smugly that he and Bernd knew each other for a very long time. To make everything worse than it already was, Jogi had called both of them to his office afterwards to tell Bernd that he'd wanted to surprise him with hiring his former classmate as his new colleague, and therefore decided not to tell him the name of his new junior partner before Marc's first day in his new job.

A surprise it had been, but definitely not the sort of surprises you wanted to get. Bernd had clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw had hurt pretty bad, forcing the corners of his mouth upwards to what would hopefully go for a smile and not for the expression of a hungry predator that was about to kill its prey or a furious bull attacking the torero with the red rag.

Marc had smiled sweetly at him, fluttering his eyelashes in faked exaltation, and Bernd had wanted to sob with relief when he could finally close the door of his own office behind him, his mind spinning and his nails digging into his palms until there were actually small droplets of red blood staining the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

Since that day Bernd avoided spending time in the office's kitchen to have a short break and chat with Mathilda or his colleagues, burying himself in his work and slowly becoming a shadow of his former self. Mathilda hadn't said anything so far, but she was watching him, and it was only a matter of time until she would ask him what was wrong. Bernd didn't know how much Marc had told her about their past, and he really didn't want to re-open old wounds and be reminded of his misery again.

“Marc was early today, he's already in his office with his own new client,” Mathilda now said with a strange look in her eyes, and Bernd gritted his teeth once more, a habit he'd gotten used to pretty fast over the last three months.

“No wonder after parking his car right before my driveway and keeping me from leaving right in time – again,” he murmured, and Mathilda observed him with thoughtfully pursed lips for a moment. “I had to drop Oscar at school, something's off with him, he didn't want to go to school today and was trying to buy himself as much time as possible to make me let him stay at home today.” Bernd explained when she said nothing, feeling nervous under her silent scrutiny.

“Hmm, I see. Have you talked to him?” Mathilda asked sympathetically, and Bernd sighed and rubbed his forehead, emptying his cup.

“I tried, but he refused to tell me what's wrong. I'll have to try again tonight after work.”

“Do that, Bernd,” Mathilda smiled encouragingly. “Now go to your client, I'm sure that you'll find him interesting.” Bernd raised an eyebrow at her in silent question, but she only waved him away. “Just see for yourself, my dear. I have work to do, Mr. Löw needs these records to be done.”

Mathilda knew Mr. Löw for longer than any of them, but she never called him Joachim or even Jogi at work, it was always Mr. Löw then.

Bernd handed the now empty mug back to her, knowing that she wouldn't answer his questions anyway, not even when he was making puppy eyes at her. So he made his way to his office instead, thinking that things could only get better after that terrible start, still happily oblivious to the trouble awaiting him later that day.

 

***

 

Bernd had always been proud of his self-control and his ability to adapt to unexpected changes rather quickly, but the client sitting in the comfortable chair before his desk made him gape with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. His new client had turned his head when he'd heard the sound of the door, and Bernd hurried to snap his mouth shut again and approach his visitor with a polite smile and a stretched out hand.

“Good morning, Mr. Reus, I'm so sorry that you had to wait for me,” he said, proud that he wasn't stammering like a fan girl meeting her most favorite pop star for the first time. He was even too stunned to add an explanation why he'd been so late, he just kept gaping at the most famous German footballer Marco Reus as if he'd seen a ghost. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes or pinch himself, which really wouldn't be professional, and Bernd wanted to be a professional lawyer and not a screeching schoolboy in front of his not so secret idol.

Marco Reus rose to his feet and took the proffered hand to shake it. “Good morning, Mr. Leno. There's no problem at all, I know how awful the morning rush hour in Dortmund can be.”

 _'Only when your colleague is parking in your driveway,'_ Bernd thought angrily, but he kept the smile on his face. His problems with ter Stegen were nothing the famous footballer needed to get involved to, and Bernd really didn't want to think of his rival right now. He gestured invitingly to the chair Reus had just stood up from, rounding his desk to take the seat behind it.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Reus?” wondering silently why Jogi hadn't wanted to take Mr. Reus as his own client. Marco Reus sighed and sat down on his chair again. “You surely now that I'm... married to Mario Götze, Mr. Leno?” he asked after a moment of silence, and Bernd nodded his head.

One of the reasons why Marco Reus was one of the two most famous German footballers was that he'd made his relationship to his teammate Mario Götze official while still being a professional sportsman and even married him a few years ago. The news had rolled through Germany like a thunderstorm, but instead of the hatred and shitstorm everyone had expected to hail down on the two young footballers after that earthshaking announcement, the media and the fans had been excited and happy for them, and the young couple had gotten only love and support except for a few stupid people who'd rambled about such a disgusting event like a same-sex-marriage between two football players.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Reus,” Bernd now said cautiously, waiting for his counterpart to tell him what he needed a lawyer for family law for. Mr. Reus didn't look happy or excited but chewed on his bottom lip with a sad expression, so he'd probably not come because he wanted to adopt a child together with his husband.

“Uhm, yes, I thought so.” The blond footballer fiddled with a thread hanging down from the sleeve of his jacket. “It's complicated.”

“You can talk openly to me, Mr. Reus. Everything you want to tell me will stay here in this office, and I'll keep your request confidential, no matter whether you'll retain me to preserve your interests or not.”

“Yes, I know, Mr. Leno. I talked to Mr. Löw at first, and he assured me that I'd be in the best hands possible with you. It's just hard for me to admit that our marriage didn't work out,” Reus blurted out, apparently relieved that he was finally able to get this off his chest. Bernd had already expected something like this, and he just nodded with the right amount of sympathy and interest showing on his face.

“It's not that Sunny... Mario and I don't love each other any longer... really not, because we still do. But we don't want the same things. He wants to focus on his career for several more years, while I was hoping to have a family with him any time soon. He's gotten an offer to go back to Munich – now that he's on top of his career again – but I can't come with him, not in a million years. I'd never play for Bayern or move away from Dortmund. The city is my home, and I want to stay in Dortmund and play for two more years or so and then think of taking things slower and adopting a child, but that's not what he wants. We tried, we really did, but I would be alone with a child most of the time, and we'd once tried a long-distance-relationship during the first time he played for Bayern but failed miserably. There's no way that I'm doing that again, that's why I'm here today.” He hung his head down low, and Bernd felt a lump in his throat at the defeated man sitting in front of him.

“It's obvious that my love for him is not enough to make him happy, so I'll have to let him go. Is there a way that we can solve this without too much damage, Mr. Leno?” Marco Reus looked up at him hopefully, and Bernd felt the sudden and very inappropriate urge to hug him and promise him that everything would be fine again. He cleared his throat and reminded himself again that he had to stay professional. Marco Reus had come to him because he needed a lawyer for his divorce, not because he'd wanted to get another admirer.

“Getting divorced is always hard and difficult, Mr. Reus, but I'll do my best to help you in every possible way you'll need me to help you,” he said, earning a small grateful smile at his honest words. “So you'll agree to be my lawyer and get this done as quickly as possible?”

“I'd be honored to be your lawyer in this matter, Mr. Reus,” Bernd agreed, “we'll have to talk this through though, and you'll have to be completely open and honest with me to make this work.”

“I will,” Reus nodded his head, looking a little less devastated than he'd looked only a minute ago.

“Fine, then.” Bernd pulled his notepad closer to scribble down what his counterpart told him. “Are you still living together, Mr. Reus? As a couple, I mean? You know that you normally have to live apart for a year at least before you can get divorced in Germany?”

Reus blushed, giving Bernd the answer with that. “Uhm, not really, I guess. I mean, it's not that we hate each other or so, and there are still feelings between us of course...” he mumbled sheepishly, and Bernd pursed his lips. “That'll be a problem, I fear. We could try to accelerate things because of your special situation as players for rival clubs in the future, but I'm not sure that this will convince any judge to agree to a quicker divorce...”

“But you'll at least try it, won't you, Mr. Leno?” Reus pleaded, and Bernd swallowed and smiled at him. “Of course, Mr. Reus. Will Mr. Götze agree to a quick divorce, Mr. Reus? That would be helpful.”

This time Marco Reus turned crimson red, staring down at his fingers in his lap. “Ähm, no, I don't think so. He's right next door to us in this moment, talking to your colleague Mr. ter Stegen to safeguard his interests and make a quick divorce impossible for us...”

The pencil dropped out of Bernd's hand, splashing blue ink all over his notepad and the desk. Bernd stared at him, his mouth hanging open so wide that his lower jaw almost touched the thick beige carpet under his feet.

“Your husband wants Marc fuck... urgh... Mr. ter Stegen to be his lawyer?” he heard himself stammer through the thick cotton wool that was suddenly filling his ears and his head, and Mr. Reus tilted his head to the side and gazed at him in confusion. “Will this be a problem, Mr. Leno?” he inquired, looking worried again. “Mr. Löw assured me that it wouldn't compromise his chancery or our interests in any way if we both chose his law office for our divorce. He said that it would actually be good because you could work better on the best solution for all parties that are concerned this way...”

Bernd swallowed several times, and he was sure that he was looking like a stranded fish, but he managed to shake his head with a pained smile. “No problem at all, Mr. Reus. I was just surprised. I'm positive that I and Mr. ter Stegen will be able to work something out that will be in both of your interests...” he said, asking himself how the fuck he should do that. Working next door with Marc was already bad enough, but actually working together with him – as the lawyers of German's most famous football couple when one of them wanted to get divorced and the other one not?

That was Bernd's worst nightmare coming true, a nightmare Bernd hadn't known that such a horrible nightmare could even exist.

“I'm relieved to hear that, Mr. Leno. I really want you to preserve my interests, I like you, and I think that I can trust you. Shall we fix our contract, then?” he asked, right in the same second when Bernd's business phone began to ring loudly.

Now it was Bernd's turn to blush, and the number showing up on the screen was a number he couldn't ignore, because it was the number of Oscar's school.

“Hmm, yes, of course. Would you mind if I quickly picked up the call? It's my son's school.” he stuttered, and Mr. Reus smiled kindly at him. “Not at all. It must be important if they call you during the classes.”

“Yes, probably. Thank you, Mr. Reus.” Bernd picked up his phone uttering his name, and his blood froze in his veins when he heard the voice of Mr. Heynckes, the principal of Oscar's school himself.

“Mr. Leno? Can you please come to school to pick your son up? He's gotten into serious trouble with one of his classmates and is waiting for you in my office.”

“Mr. Heynckes? What happened?” Bernd asked on high alert, playing nervously with the telephone cord of his landline.

“Oscar fought with his classmate over something, and he even punched him in his face. The other boy fought back and hit him as well, and his nose is bleeding now. I already called the other boy's father, and I expect you to come here soon. I need to talk to you, to both of you, actually.”

Bernd had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he hardly dared to ask this question, but he had to ask it nonetheless.

“Uhm, the other boy, who is it, Mr. Heynckes?”

“You don't know that? Oscar hasn't told you about his problems with his new classmate? I must admit that I'm surprised now. It's Alex, who joined Oscar's class after the Christmas holidays.”

“Alex?” Bernd croaked out, closing his eyes in dawning realization.

“Yes, Alex, Mr. Leno. Alexander ter Stegen, the son of your colleague Marc-André ter Stegen. Who else do you think would your son punch in their faces, Mr. Leno?”

Bernd grimaced. “Yeah, of course, who else? It could only be Alexander ter Stegen, why was I even asking? I'm coming, Mr. Heynckes, I'm already on my way,” he sighed, feeling utterly exhausted all of a sudden.

The day had started bad, and it was getting worse with every minute that passed, he really should have known that.


	2. Suddenly Coaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc has been summoned to Mr. Heynckes' office together with Bernd to talk about what happened between Alex and Oscar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't have as much fun torturing these two as I actually have, I guess...

Marc almost missed the turn he needed to take to drive to Alex' new school, and he cursed under his breath and pulled harshly at the steering wheel before it was too late and he would have to drive a long detour that would cost him too much time.

The call from Mr. Heynckes had interrupted his first meeting with the famous Mario Götze right when Mr. Götze had started to lay his cards on the table and tell him honestly what he was up to, and all Marc had wanted to do was to scream in frustration. This was his chance to prove himself to Joachim Löw and all doubters that didn't think that he would keep his job for longer than a few months, especially his biggest doubter Bernd fucking Leno. He hadn't even had enough time to fix the contract, and he could only hope that Mr. Götze would agree to another meeting and give him a second chance. And now he had to worry about his son above all things as well on that terrible day.

It was already hard enough for Alex to settle in in his new home and find new friends in a new school, and that the son of Marc's biggest rival and enemy walking this earth was attending the same class was what people usually called 'bad luck'.

Only that this bad luck could hardly be topped by anything else anymore.

Trust Bernd Leno to hold Marc responsible for the dark clouds covering the bright sun before the next thunderstorm, for the unnerving and inevitable traffic jams during rush hour, or for somebody else grabbing the last bottle of milk in the supermarket right before Bernd fucking Leno's arrogant nose. Bernd most likely even thought that Marc was responsible for the ice covering the South Pole or the Sahara being Earth's biggest desert.

Marc had tried to earn Bernd's approval for at least one single damn time for more than twelve years when they'd been stuck in school together, but hell would turn into an icy-cold place before Marc winning Bernd's approval would ever happen, that much was sure. Marc didn't even know why the other one was hating him so much as they had much more in common than they had not.

Maybe this was the problem.

They were both tall, slim and blond, they had both been among the best students in their classes and shared the same passion for football, both standing between the posts as the school football team's only two goalkeepers. They had both played in one of the two small clubs of their hometown too, but each of them for the respective rival club, and Bernd had never taken it well when their coach at school had decided that Marc would guard the net for the next game, always thinking that he himself would be the better choice to keep the net clean.

Bernd was normally a friendly and cheerful person, but his brows would furrow to a displeased scowl the minute Marc entered the same room, his warm voice turning hard and cold whenever he couldn't just ignore Marc and would have to address him.

Marc had needed an awfully huge amount of time to get over the fact that there was one person hating him so much, even though he'd done nothing to deserve such hatred. He'd been cautious and reserved during his first years at university, always fearing that Bernd would turn around the next corner and tell Marc's new friends that they'd better stay away from him because Marc didn't deserve that they even so much as only glanced at him.

Meeting Anna had made him forget Bernd and his complicated feelings for the other boy for a while, and he'd actually been overjoyed when Anna had shown him the dipstick of the pregnancy test with two thin blue lines with puffy eyes. Their relationship had ended shortly after Alex' birth without it being anybody's fault, and it had never been a real question for Marc that he would raise his sweet little son on his own. Alex was the center of his world, and Marc couldn't imagine his life without his tiny son in it anymore.

He'd finished his studies in record time and worked in a rather small law office for a year or two before one of his former classmates had told him about the vacant job place in Mr. Löw's chancery.

Marc hadn't really believed that he would even get the chance for a personal interview as there were surely at least fifty other applications for that job, all of them from lawyers with better skills and more experience.

It had been more than hundred applications actually. That was what Mathilda had told him when he'd signed his contract right after his interview with Joachim Löw. Löw had gone through twenty-one interviews already before his appointment with Marc. He'd been number twenty-two, nervous like hell and stammering his way through the first minutes like a schoolboy that had been caught without his homework for the umpteenth time.

The interview had lasted fifteen minutes before Löw had told him that they were finished, and Marc had made his way to the exit angry about himself that he'd fucked it up so thoroughly. He still remembered Löw's casual remark right when he'd laid his hand onto the door handle to push it down and open the door.

_“Mathilda has already printed your contract, don't forget to sign it before you drive home to pack your belongings for the necessary move to Dortmund.”_

Marc had stopped dead in his tracks, slowly turning his head in disbelief. Löw had just smiled at him before going back to type something on his keyboard, and Marc had left his office like in some kind of trance and signed the contract Mathilda handed him without really comprehending what he was reading.

It had only been after fixing everything that he'd read the name on the office door next to Löw's.

 _Bernd Leno_ , lawyer for family law.

 

***

 

_Marc found himself staring at the name plate on the beech wooden door, trying to understand what was just happening to him._

_“Uhm, Bernd Leno is working for Mr. Löw?” he mumbled when he'd finally found his tongue again.”I'm not sure, but I think I know him...”_

_Mathilda beamed at him. “Yes, I know, Mr. ter Stegen – Marc. You listed the schools you'd been attending in your personal data sheet, and they were the same as Bernd had listed in his résumé. I told Mr. Löw about that when I gave him your application. What a wonderful coincidence, isn't it?”_

_'Wonderful' was not exactly the choice of words Marc would choose to describe this more than unfortunate coincidence, and he swallowed and opened his mouth to tell Mathilda that everything had been a big mistake and that he couldn't accept Mr. Löw's job offer, but no sound came out. He wanted this job so badly, and he wouldn't let Bernd Leno's hatred for him rule his life and the decisions he made for himself and his son. Marc would never get such a chance again if he declined Joachim Löw's offer now, and he simply couldn't do that. Maybe Bernd's hate had faded over the years, and he wouldn't mind having to work next door with Marc._

_'Do you really believe in miracles, you stupid fool?' a mocking voice whispered somewhere in his head, but Marc stubbornly ignored it. “Uhm, yes, what a coincidence,” was all he managed to bring out, and Mathilda's smile deepened. “It will be such a surprise for him when he sees you after that long time. I'm sure that you'll have a lot to catch up with after all those years,” she said cheerfully, and Marc could only not and hope that his smile didn't look too much like the pained grimace it actually was._

_“Oh yes, certainly.”_

_“We could help you finding a good place to live in, Marc. It would make it easier for you not having to do that yourself, right?”_

_Marc had been too shocked and confused to think straight and gratefully agreed to that 'helpful' proposal, thanking Mr. Löw's good fairy for the kind offer, something he couldn't know that he would deeply regret it deeply soon enough at this point._

_Not that the house Mr. Löw – (Mathilda?) - had found for him and Alex wasn't beautiful and perfect in every possible way, because it definitely was. There was only the 'minor' problem of Marc's new neighbor, which happened to be no one else other than Bernd Leno in person, and Marc's former classmate, enemy and soon-to-be-colleague wasn't pleased when he realized who his new neighbor was to put it nicely._

_Bernd wasn't the only one living in the house right next to Marc and Alex though, and Marc was truly shocked when he almost bumped into Bernd's son Oscar for the first time, loaded with two heavy boxes that he could just keep from burying the small boy beneath them._

_Bernd had a cute son that was a mirror of himself, a son that was about the same age as Alex was – another similarity between them. Not that the revelation that Marc was a single father as well did anything to change Bernd's bad opinion about him. Quite the opposite. The fact that his archenemy had almost crushed his son with two heavy boxes only served to fuel his hatred for Marc even more, and Marc's faint hope that Bernd would perhaps offer to help him with the furniture vanished the second he looked into Bernd's furious face._

_He'd done his best to finish everything as quickly as possible, working day and night to turn their new house into a real home for Alex, but Bernd had looked daggers at him every time they met on their way to their cars or front doors, and if looks could kill, Marc would already be dead._

_Maybe he should have told Bernd that he was his new colleague, Mr. Löw's newest junior partner, but after Bernd's 'welcome', he'd thirsted for revenge and decided that seeing Bernd's face when they'd meet in Löw's office for the first time would make up for Bernd's demeanor towards him at least a little bit. So he'd kept his mouth firmly shut and anticipated the moment to come._

_When it had come, Marc hadn't been as happy and satisfied as he'd thought that he would be. The look of utter hurt and betrayal on Bernd'd handsome features had been like the stab of a knife right into his heart, and Marc did his best now to avoid Bernd and keep his distance from him, which was tricky considering that they were next-door neighbors and working in the same office. Not to mention that Alex and Oscar attended the same school and class._

_Fate seemed to have a sick sense of humor at times, and it would have been hilarious and funny that Alex and Oscar had to share the same fate as their fathers had done – if it hadn't been so sad because Alex was suffering and truly unhappy. Marc could still see the joy on Alex' face before his mind's eye when his son had learned that a boy as old as he was lived right next to him, just to watch Alex' happiness turn into utter despair and disappointment because Oscar treated him like Bernd treated Alex' father, as if the new kid was the most terrible person that had ever lived on this planet._

_If things wouldn't approve considerably over the next weeks, then Marc would have to think about moving again, either to another quarter, or even to another city, quitting his job in Löw's office and starting anew again. Marc didn't want that, but there was nothing in this world he wouldn't do for his son, and hearing Alex crying himself to sleep every night was more than Marc could bear for much longer._

_He'd tried to talk to Bernd, but the other one just wouldn't listen, and now Marc was heading to Alex' school because Alex and Oscar had punched each other..._

 

***

 

Marc pulled himself out of his dark memories when he reached the parking lot, suppressing a groan when he realized that this time Bernd had been faster than him, just parking his car on the last free parking spot. Now he would have to park somewhere else and run the remaining distance to the building, because Bernd would surely take up on the advantage of being there first and try to convince Mr. Heynckes that everything was Alex' fault, and that his son Oscar hadn't done anything wrong, being the victim here.

Marc cursed inwardly again, turning his car with squealing tires to drive back where he'd come from and park at the roadside of the small street more than four hundred meters away from the school building. He jogged back to school wishing he would wear his jersey and sneakers instead of the dress shirt, jacket and business shoes he'd put on this morning, and he was sweating and completely disheveled by the time he knocked at the door that led to Mr. Heynckes' office.

“Come in!” a voice sounded through the closed door, and Marc opened it with a racing heart, his eyes scanning the room for his son frantically. Everything else could wait, he needed to make sure that Alex was alright at first.

His son sat on a chair before the desk with slumped shoulders and a snow-white face, traces of dried tears staining his cheeks. His bottom lip started to tremble when he saw his father, and Marc rushed to him to kneel down before his chair and pull his son close to his body, making shushing noises and stroking his hair and his back.

“I'm here, darling, I'm right here,” he whispered again and again, and Alex wrapped his arms tightly around his neck and sobbed into Marc's expensive jacket without caring about leaving his snot all over it. Marc didn't really care about that either, inhaling deeply Alex' beloved scent.

“Hmm, Mr. ter Stegen?”

Marc flinched and peered up at the principal watching him from behind his desk with an unreadable expression. “Good morning, Mr. Heynckes,” he mumbled, feeling uncertain like a schoolboy himself all of a sudden.

“We'll have to wait and see whether this morning will turn into a good one at last – or maybe even become worse, Mr. ter Stegen. As much as I understand your worries about your son, but it's not him who's having had a bleeding nose, but Oscar. Your son's pride is the one thing about him that suffered the most today if I had to guess, and the same goes for Oscar Leno – except for his nose, of course. I called you to talk to both of you and solve the problem your children are obviously having with each other for once and all, so please have a seat and let's talk like mature people normally do.”

Marc bit his lip, but nodded his head and sat down on the vacant chair next to his son, readying himself for what was about to come.

 

***

 

“Oscar, please tell me again why you punched Alex now that your father and Mr. ter Stegen are here to listen to your story as well,” Mr. Heynckes said when they were all seated before and behind the desk, and Marc turned his head to scowl at the bad boy who'd dared to hit his sweet son.

Oscar sat on a chair next to his father, and Marc shifted his attention from son to father, but Bernd ignored him with a grim face – just like he'd done it since Marc had come into the room.

Oscar looked miserably, and Marc felt a little bit sorry for him, but only just a little bit. “Alex...” Oscar darted a quick uncomfortable look at Marc before staring down at his jeans-covered knees again. “Alex was being mean. He teased me the entire time, saying that I was an idiot just like my father – that I'd never be a good goalie. He said that his father had always been the better goalie of the two of them, and that it would be the same with us, that he would always be the better keeper and the one who deserved to guard the net...” Oscar drew in a shaky breath that sounded more like a sob. “I tried to ignore him, even though it really hurt, but when he didn't stop insulting Papa, all I wanted to do was to make him be quiet. I didn't mean to punch him, I just wanted him to stop insulting my father!”

Bernd's head snapped around to glare at Marc, and Marc felt the heat of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He remembered that he had ranted about Bernd the other day after another argument they'd had over something unimportant at work, but Marc's patience had become thinner and thinner after three months of Bernd's constant foul mood and grumpiness aimed at him, and he had also thought to be alone when he'd talked to himself to let his frustration out. It seemed that Alex had heard him and mirrored his behavior. Of course Oscar wouldn't let any insult against his father go unpunished, everyone with eyes in their heads could see that Oscar adored his father with all his heart.

“I see,” Mr. Heynckes stepped in before Bernd could start to yell at him though, raising his hand to silence Marc's counterpart. “I understand that you were angry, Oscar, but you were totally wrong when you punched Alex.”

“Yes, I know,” Oscar whispered, “but it wasn't the first time Alex did that.”

“Only because of the bad things you were telling about my dad all of the time!” Alex cried out indignantly. “My dad is the best dad in the entire world, he's so much better than your father will ever be! You were the one being mean and telling lies about my dad when all I wanted to be was your friend!” Alex sobbed, burying his face on Marc's chest.

Marc was stunned into shocked silence and immobility, wrapping one arm around his son while gaping back and forth between the two boys, the principal and his own enemy. Bernd looked as shocked as he felt, and he stroked Oscar's face, having at least the decency to look guilty and uncomfortable instead of self-righteous for once. “I wanted to be your friend too,” Oscar now whispered, “but Papa wouldn't let me. He said that I could never be the friend of someone who's related to such an asshole like your dad...”

“Askgdfkjgrhpffffff!!!” Bernd started to cough, his face changing from crimson red to snow-white and back to purple within two seconds.

Marc opened his mouth and closed it again, his tongue in his mouth too thick to merely think of trying to form some coherent words.

“I see,” Mr. Heynckes repeated, sounding surprisingly calm and unmoved. “So Alex and Oscar are apparently not the problem here, but their fathers. Care to tell me where all this hate is coming from?”

“Uhm, we were classmates in school for twelve years. Both in the football team of our school as goalkeepers...” Marc flinched at the sound of his own voice, and Bernd's head turned around again, his jaw working so hard that Marc could hear his teeth grinding against each other.

“... and instead of being best friends you chose to be enemies,” Mr. Heynckes finished his sentence for him. “Sort of,” Marc admitted, averting his gaze because he couldn't stand Bernd's silent glaring any longer.

“We're colleagues now in Mr. Löw's chancery,” he added as if this explained anything.

“One more opportunity to go for each other's throats as it would seem.” Bernd and Marc both ducked their heads at the same time at that.

“Very well. It's no wonder that your sons are behaving this way when their fathers are not capable of dealing with each other in a civilized manner like grown ups should actually be able to do,” Heynckes said, and Marc wanted to object, but his protest died in his throat, and he knew that the principal was right. He and Bernd had influenced their sons in the worst way imaginable, and Oscar and Alex were both suffering because of their own stupidity.

“I do believe that their misery is punishment enough for them, so I will refrain from any other consequences this time. But Oscar and Alex have to learn to get along with each other for the sake of their classmates, and you as their fathers should set a good example and sort things out between you, Mr. Leno, Mr. ter Stegen.” Heynckes sounded strict and determined, and Marc nodded his head subduedly, watching Bernd doing the same from the corner of his eye. Alex was still leaning against him, and he pulled him closer because he needed some comfort and consolation just as much.

Mr. Heynckes regarded each of them quietly for a while, before a small contented smile lit up his features. “To give you the opportunity to do that, I want to ask you to become the next coaches of our school football team. Mr. Müller has gotten the offer to become the coach of the football team of the Gymnasium close by, and he won't have enough time to train our school team in the future then as well. I'm positive that I'll find a permanent solution after the summer break, but until then, I'd be very grateful if you two would help us out. There is an important tournament at the end of the school year, and you're the perfect choice considering that you have been playing football as well.”

“But... there's no way that Marc and I...” Bernd stammered, and Marc should really be used to his hate at this point, but hearing the horror in Bernd's hoarse voice at the prospect of having to coach the team together with him hurt nonetheless.

“You would really leave us high and dry, Mr. Leno?” Mr. Heynckes asked innocently, and Bernd blushed again, scowling helplessly at Marc as if he was responsible for this terrible mess.

Which he was at least partly, but it was Bernd's fault just as much, and Marc was talking without thinking before he could stop himself. “Of course you would do that, Bernd, wouldn't you? Thinking of yourself only and letting your son down just to pay me back, right?”

“How can you dare accusing me of letting people down, ter Stegen?” Bernd growled, “it's not me who never cared about others! You always had to be the number one everywhere, didn't you? You never stepped back to give me the chance to prove myself, you always had to outdo me!”

“Oh you!” Marc snarled furiously, “that's not true and you know that! I'm so tired of all of this shit coming from you, you have no idea!”

“Then why don't you go back where you've come from and leave us alone?” Bernd had started to yell, only stopping when Oscar looked at him with big eyes and a scared expression. “Papa...”

Bernd snapped his mouth shut again, inhaling a deep shuddering breath, and Marc did the same, unclenching his fist from Alex' jumper only with effort. “Daddy, why do you hate Oscar's Papa so much?” Alex asked in a small voice, and Marc swallowed and kissed him on his ruffled hair.

“I don't hate him, Lexi, I just had a bad morning,” he assured his son, but Alex was still looking skeptically at him, as did Oscar with his father.

“Can.., can you please be good again, Daddy? We won't make it if you don't help us.” Marc felt selfish and angry with himself when he saw Alex' pleading eyes, and he turned his head to gaze at Bernd, still stroking Alex' hair. “Of course I'll help you and your team, Lexi,” he said grimly, “and I'm sure that Oscar's Papa wants to help him too, isn't that so, Bernd? What do you think? Shall we help Alex and Oscar's team and become their trainers so they will win this tournament?” he asked, holding his breath as he waited for Bernd's answer.


	3. Serious Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernd is having a heart-to-heart talk with his son Oscar. Marc is having a talk with his son Alex, and Marco is having a serious talk with his husband Mario. At the end of that truly horrible day, Bernd is having a serious and pretty enlightening talk with his best friend Manuel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Khalehla,  
> I'm so happy that you like this story, I have a lot of fun writing it. I burrowed some inspiration from your Steno again in this chapter, you will surely recognize the parts. :-)

Bernd didn't return to the office on that day, calling Mathilda that he had to take care of Oscar and asking her to re-schedule his appointments and meetings. Her voice was soothing when she told him that she'd already guessed that he wouldn't come back to work, and that Jogi Löw wouldn't mind him taking the rest of the day off to see to his son.

Bernd didn't ask her whether or not Marc was doing the same as he could see Marc's car turning into the driveway of his house when he looked out of the kitchen window, and the look on the other one's face showed him that going back to work was the last thing Marc had in mind at the moment. Bernd felt a sudden unexpected and disturbing pang of sympathy for his counterpart, and he tried to suppress it right away again, because sympathy or understanding was nothing he wanted to feel when it came to his archenemy. It was already bad enough that he'd actually agreed to train the football team together with Marc in the future, but there was no need for them to become friends because of that.

“Mr. Reus is your first client tomorrow, Bernd,” Mathilda said, “he wants to fix the contract with you and talk to you again.”

Bernd flinched as he remembered that he had to work 'together' with Marc for the next weeks and months, too - to get Marco Reus' divorce through without too much damage for both sides, Marco Reus and Mario Götze. That Mario obviously didn't want to get divorced and was therefore seeking for the best ways to interfere with Marco's plans to get divorced as quickly as possible was another problem Bernd would have to deal with soon enough.

But not today. Today he needed to have a serious talk with his son Oscar, who was waiting for him in his room, and Oscar's well-being was the only thing that really mattered to Bernd today.

“Thank you, Mathilda. I'll see you tomorrow,” he ended the call, pouring himself a glass of water while he watched Marc guiding his son into the house. The other one stopped on the threshold for a second, craning his head to look over his shoulder and shoot a quick glance in the direction of Bernd's kitchen. Bernd quickly stepped back from the window, but he was sure that Marc had caught him watching him, and it only added to his frustration and anger. Marc would surely think that he was trying to stalk him – which couldn't be further from the truth. All Bernd really wanted was Marc to go back where he'd come from so he wouldn't have to ever see him again, but this was a wistful dream that would never come true, and Bernd would better accept the painful truth that Marc was going to stay sooner rather than later.

 

***

 

Oscar was sitting on his bed when Bernd opened the door to his room, staring down at the carpet with unseeing eyes. He'd become thin and pale over the last weeks, and Bernd chided himself that he hadn't paid better attention to Oscar's problems and his poor state, which were both more than obvious to him now. Instead of supporting his son and making sure that Oscar was alright he'd dwelt in self-pity, too busied with his own feelings to see how much Oscar was suffering. Bernd promised silently to himself that this would never happen again, and he drew in a deep breath to ready himself for their very much needed talk.

His sweet son looked up when he heard the sound of the door, and his expression changed from relieved to guilty and anxious and then, carefully guarded. Bernd came to an abrupt halt, his blood running cold when he saw the fear in Oscar's eyes. When the fuck had his boy started to be afraid of him? Bernd swallowed, schooling his features into a soft smile by sheer willpower. He was still furious because of Marc and everything that had happened today, but Oscar was not responsible for this mess, and Bernd had sworn to protect him from any harm for as long as he lived the moment when he'd held Oscar in his arms for the first time, and his own anger belonged to the things Bernd would protect his son from, no matter what.

“I'm sorry, Papa,” Oscar mumbled when Bernd didn't move and just kept looking down at him. “I didn't mean to be bad.”

Bernd swallowed again and slowly crossed the room to sit down beside Oscar. “I know that, darling. I'm not angry with you, it's not your fault.” He cautiously reached out with his hand to lay it under Oscar's chin and turn his head towards himself to check his nose, and he was utterly grateful that Oscar didn't flinch away from his touch.

“We should have a doctor take a close look at your nose, darling,” he said, but Oscar shook his head. “I'm fine, Papa. Alex didn't punch me that hard, my nose has been bleeding a lot of times lately.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Oscar?” Bernd asked in dismay, feeling like the worst father in the world in this moment. Oscar dared a wary smile, unconsciously leaning against his side. “It wasn't bad, and it always stopped after a few minutes. I think it's because I'm growing – like it was with you when you were a boy. You've been so tense and busy, I didn't want to disturb or worry you.”

“You're my son, darling. Nothing could ever be more important to me than you and your well-being.” Bernd murmured, pulling Oscar into his lap. The boy snuggled against him, gratefully, and Bernd closed his eyes and nuzzled at Oscar's tousled hair to inhale his beloved scent and let it calm him down.

“I will never do that again, Papa, scout's honor,” Oscar whispered against his shoulder, and Bernd rocked him back and forth, humming gently into his ear. “Yes, I know, darling. Was Alex the reason why you didn't want to school today?”

Oscar made an agreeing noise. “He's been teasing and mocking me every day, saying bad things about you. I know that he's not right, that his words were all lies, but they hurt pretty bad nevertheless.”

“I can imagine, Oscar.” Bernd let out a sigh. “I assume that you paid him back for that more than once, saying bad things about his father too.”

“I think so.” Oscar pushed his nose deeper into Bernd's shirt. “I don't really think that Alex' dad is truly an idiot, I mean...” he went silent and tried to pull away, obviously fearing that his father would get angry at him if he said anything nice about Alex or his father. Bernd pulled him back into his arms, kissing his cheek. “No, Marc is a lot of things, but he's not an idiot. Or actually an asshole like I'd said earlier. I'm sorry for that. I really should know better than use such words in front of you, shouldn't I?” He added quietly and sheepishly after a second or so.

“Why don't you like Alex' Daddy, Papa? I... I think I like Alex. He seems to be not as bad as I'd first thought him to be, I guess.”

“It's complicated,” Bernd defended himself, cringing slightly at how dense and lame he sounded. “We simply never got along with each other.”

Which was most likely his own fault, because Marc had tried to get along with him at the beginning, but Bernd had never given him a real chance to prove to him that he wasn't as bad as Bernd wanted him to be.

“Will you keep on fighting when you train us together, Papa?” Oscar peered up at him, and his love for his son overwhelmed Bernd and let warmth pooling in his stomach. He'd do everything for his son, even trying to be the grown up man he thought himself to be and treat Marc with the necessary politeness they would need to do their jobs as the new football trainers – and the lawyers of two famous footballers who didn't really want to get divorced but thought that they had to break apart for some stupid reason.

“I'll do my best not to fight with Alex' father in the future, Oscar,” he said, earning a happy smile from his boy with that. “Do you think that I could perhaps play with Alex now and then, Papa? I'll be a good boy and behave, I promise you. Not often, only sometimes? Please? He's the only one of my friends living so close by, and he said that he wanted to be my friend, too, so maybe he'll forgive me for the punch...”

Oscar's pleading expression broke Bernd's heart, and he dabbed kisses of regret and sorry onto his hair. Seeing his boy happy was what made him happy, and if Oscar longed to have Alex as his friend, then Bernd would accept his choice and not forbid him to see Marc-André ter Stegen's son. He wasn't really happy with Oscar's wish, but seeing Alex more often didn't necessarily mean that he had to deal with Marc more than absolutely unavoidable, so he'd probably be fine.

“Sure you can play with him if that's what you truly want, darling,” he murmured, and Oscar squealed a bit, still too cautious to show his excitement properly, and he wrapped his arms tightly around his neck to press a loud kiss onto his cheek as a thank you.

“You won't regret it, Papa, I promise you!” he promised his father with greatest sincerity in his voice, and Bernd smiled and kissed him on his cheek as well. He was pretty sure that he was going to regret his words quickly, but he said nothing, only smiled at his happy son because his own feelings towards Marc were nothing Oscar needed to know about, and Bernd would make sure that his son would stay oblivious about them in the future too.

 

***

 

“I'm so sorry that I disappointed you, Daddy.” Alex hung his head down low, and Marc felt angry at Bernd and guilty because of his own behavior at the same time. Alex was not the one who needed to apologize, he'd only wanted to be Oscar's friend and defend his father when the other boy had been mean because of what his own father had said about Alex' beloved dad.

Marc was still surprised that Bernd had actually agreed to train the football team together with him, and he really had no bloody clue how they should manage to do that without yelling at each other right in front of the boys the entire time. Bernd would certainly object against everything he said, lecturing him that he knew better and that Marc was incapable of being a good trainer. Marc could either swallow everything down and try to be the reasonable one in this forced cooperation, or he could try to make Bernd see sense and risk that things became even worse between them.

Not that Marc really thought that things could get any worse, but he hadn't thought that this day couldn't get worse before Heynckes' call either, so he should better not make any assumptions that would turn out to be only wishful thinking from his side.

Bernd Leno most likely hated him even more than he'd hated him before that talk in the principal's office, and Marc didn't know how to change his opinion about him. Being Mario Götze's lawyer – who wanted him to stall his divorce from Marco Reus for as long as possible – only added to the long list of his failures Bernd was holding against him. And Marc's counterpart didn't even know about the worst failure in this list – that the former boy and now man he loathed so much had had a major crush on him for years when they'd both been teenagers and attended the same class and football team. His one-sided secret pining was one of the reasons why Marc's relationship with Anna hadn't worked out, as Marc had still yearned for his rival when they'd finally gone seperate ways for their studies.

Marc wasn't sure how he felt about Bernd these days, but sometimes he woke up from a dream he couldn't fully remember to find his pants damp and the faint memory of intense pleasure still lingering in the back of his mind and in his groin. All he knew for sure was that Bernd always played an important role in those dreams, but he never dared to actually think more closely about them, but did his best to forget about them until he would wake up with a damp spot in his pajamas the next time.

“Daddy?”

Marc snapped out of his heavy thoughts with a blush, deeply grateful that his sweet son couldn't read his mind and all the wicked and filthy things he was oh so carefully hiding from his son. His secret desire for the father of the boy who'd treated his beloved Lexi like shit for example. Or the countless painful and torturous ways Marc had figured out to pay Bernd fucking Leno back for all the grief and suffering Marc had gone through when they had been classmates and rivals on the pitch.

“You didn't disappoint me, darling,” he now said, glad that he could focus on something that was not Bernd's normally pretty handsome face and the scornful sneer on it that turned it into an ugly grimace every time Bernd would glare hatefully at him.

“Yes, I did. I'll never do anything like that again.” Alex looked so young and exhausted, and Marc pulled him close and rocked him in his arms. “I know that you won't, Lexi. It wasn't right what you did, but you wanted to defend me, darling, and it's my fault that I didn't try to talk to Bernd and his son sooner.”

Alex sighed and leaned his head against Marc's shoulder. “Is it true what Oscar's Papa has said, Daddy? That you always wanted to be the number one, I mean?”

“Hmm, I'm not sure, but I don't think that it was always like he said that it was. Besides, it's not wrong to want that. Trying to be good at what you're doing is what is important if you want to reach your goals.”

“But not if doing that is hurting other people, isn't that so, Daddy?” Alex was so mature sometimes that it formed a huge lump in Marc's throat. Had it really been only yesterday that Alex had still been a baby, a small toddler taking the first steps on unsteady feet? Marc didn't want his son to grow up so fast, and he really wanted Alex to have a carefree and happy youth. Anna lived in another city across entire Germany and couldn't visit them as often as Alex would have needed his mother to visit them, and Marc couldn't just take some time off either after just having started to work for Jogi Löw.

“No, not then. Hurting other people is never good, darling.” Marc agreed with a heavy heart, pressing a gentle kiss onto his hair. “I'll talk to Oscar's Papa, and I'll try to find a way how we can both be your coaches, alright?”

“Thank you, Daddy.” Alex gazed up at him, and Marc melted inside. His son was the most precious being in the world to him, and Marc would give his life for him without thinking. “Would you mind it if I talked to Oscar? I think that I still like him, and I want to apologize for his bleeding nose.”

“No, I don't mind, darling. But give him some more time, okay? You should think about what you want to tell him for one night at least, and you're pale with exhaustion. What do you think about doing your homework while I'm seeing to some things I need to fix for work tomorrow, and then we could have pizza and watch a movie together before you're going to bed early tonight?”

Alex' pretty face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “That sounds great, Daddy. You're right, I want to think about what I'm going to say to Oscar for a bit, and I'm really tired. It's been a long time since we have last watched a movie together. Can we watch _Dragons_ please?”

“Sure thing, Lexi.” Marc smiled at his son, ruffling his hair. “Pizza with salami and mushrooms as always?”

Alex squealed happily, his grief and worries forgotten for the time being, and Marc kissed him before he stood to see to his own neglected work while his boy was doing his homework. They weren't out of the woods yet, but Alex' eyes were shining again, and this was all that mattered to Marc. If training Alex' team together with Bernd meant that those sparks would stay where they belonged and make Alex' eyes shine like that, then Marc would patiently endure every insult Bernd wanted to throw at him at training, and if it was the last thing Marc did in this world.

 

***

 

“I can't believe it! How could you dare doing that?!” Marco stopped in his restless pacing, folding his arms across his chest to glare at his husband. Mario was sitting on their couch with his fingers entwined in his lap so hard that his knuckles turned white, staring up at Marco with a defiant look on his face.

Marco swallowed when the memories of all those many, many times they had made love on that couch rushed back into his mind, memories of happy days when Marco had thought that nothing could ever come between them again.

“Doing what, Marco? Getting myself a lawyer as well? What did you think that I would do? Just watch you walking out of my life?”

“It's not me who wants to walk away, if I'm allowed to remind you of that, Mario! It's not me who's so eager to play for the glorious FCB fucking Bayern!”

“Damn it, Marco! It's only for two or three more years! We'll still be young enough to have children after that!”

“You know how strict the laws are when it comes to adoption. We have to be young enough for that, and I really don't want to wait for much longer.”

“We can still think about adopting a child now if you want that, Marco,” Mario tried, and Marco gritted his teeth. “No, we can't. I'm not going to be a single father, and I'm not going to raise a child in Munich, no way! Why are you so stubborn about this? Why aren't you happy with me any longer that you want to play for Bayern again after what they did to you the first time you were playing for those dickheads?”

“So, I am the one being stubborn here, really? Why can't you understand that my career is important to me?” Mario growled, looking so hurt that Marco longed to kneel down before the couch and kiss the hurt away. He still loved Mario more than anything, and he doubted that this would ever change, but he simply couldn't do what Mario expected him to do and support his transfer to Bayern.

“I do understand that, but we have a life here, how can you even think of going back to Munich?”

“I'm happy with you, Marco, more than I ever thought I could be, but football is important to me too, and I just have to try it again. I would always regret that I missed this second chance otherwise. Besides, you wouldn't be a single father. We would see each other as often as possible, and it wouldn't be for so long. I'll come back to Dortmund after my retirement, love, I promise you.” Mario's face softened, and he looked pleadingly at Marco, but Marco turned his head away.

“You promised me that you would never leave me again when you came back to Dortmund, Sunny,” he said bitterly, “don't make any more promises you can't keep.”

Mario paled at that. “That's not fair, Marco,” he croaked out, and Marco knew that, but he couldn't take his words back. “I'll pull this through, Mario,” he said impassively, trying not to show his own hurt. “I'll do everything to get divorced from you as quickly as I can manage if you'll sign that contract.”

Mario's face hardened again, and he narrowed his eyes. “And I'll do everything to make this impossible, Marco. You want to be a free man again? Fine, but don't count on me and my cooperation, because I don't want to get divorced from you. I'll fight for you! I'll fix my contract with Mr. ter Stegen tomorrow, and I'll find a way to stall our divorce for as long as I can manage to do that, be sure about that!”

“You want war, _Sunny_?” Marco spat out, emphasizing his petname for Mario in a way that made his husband flinch visibly. “Alright, you can have war!” With this Marco stormed out of their living room, grabbing his jacket and his keys to leave the house he'd bought for Mario as a wedding gift. The streets were empty when he left the driveway with squealing tires to drive through the early night, pictures of him and Mario filling his mind.

Mario wanted to fight with him over this? Fine he could try to do that, but Marco would be prepared for Mario's attempts to prolong the inevitable. If he really wanted to go back to Munich, then he would have to do that without Marco, that much was sure.

 

***

 

“Hi, Manu, come in!” Bernd opened his front door to let his former colleague and one of his best friends in. He'd called Manuel earlier, giving him a short briefing about the events that had taken place today, and Manu had promised to come over for a talk after work and give him some advice when it came to Bernd's future job as the trainer of ten-year-old schoolboys.

Manuel's own chancery had had a successful start, and he was pretty busied these days, but he'd assured Bernd that he would never be too busied to help a friend, and Bernd was grateful that he didn't need to go through this alone.

Manuel's fiancé Thomas Müller happened to be Oscar's former football trainer, said Mr. Müller, who had gotten the offer to train the football team of the Gymnasium in their quarter and where he was working as a teacher for sports, German and English, and they had actually met because of Bernd when Manuel had picked up Oscar from his training one day when Bernd had still been in the court room because of a difficult case.

Manuel and Thomas had fallen in love with each other right at first sight, and Bernd sometimes envied them pretty much for what they had together.

“Hi, Bernd!” Manuel shrugged out of his jacket and walked into the living room on his socks to sprawl out on Bernd's comfortable couch. Bernd shook his head, but a genuine smile was spreading out on his face for the first time on that horrible day, and he sat down in the armchair opposite Manuel, offering him a cup with the tea he'd brewed to calm himself down while he'd waited for Manuel's arrival.

Manuel took the mug, sipping from the beverage as he observed Bernd curiously. “So, I'm here now to support you if you want to bear your heart to me. But I'll expect complete honesty, and don't forget the small details you might want to keep to yourself.”

Bernd blushed, because Manu simply knew him too well. He drew in several deep breaths before he started to talk, telling the older lawyer what had happened, from the moment he'd found Marc's car parked in his driveway – again – to the minute he'd put Oscar to bed early because his son had almost fallen asleep during dinner because of his exhaustion after his eventful day.

“You know that I can't give you any details about Mr. Reus' case, but you'll find out about their divorce via media soon enough anyway, so I'd thought that I could tell you about my new client myself right away,” he finished his narration, and Manuel nodded thoughtfully. “I don't expect you to break your oath and tell me private information about your clients, Bernd,” he agreed seriously, “that would be totally unprofessional. Hmm. But I can see why you're not so happy about Mario Götze choosing your Marc of all people as his own lawyer in this case...” he drawled with pursed lips, his eyes fixated on Bernd's face.

Bernd's cheeks heated up at the rather ominous term 'your Marc', and he let out a growl that startled him as much as it made Manuel grin. “Marc-André fucking ter Stegen is not ' _my_ Marc', Neuer! Watch your tongue!” he almost yelled, trying to be quieter when he remembered that Oscar was sleeping upstairs.

“Oops, sorry for that, Bernd,” Manuel said, sounding not the least sorry for his slippery tongue. “Besides, it's only logical that Mario Götze would do that if he doesn't want to get divorced, this way he'll have at least some control over his husband, and Jogi's office is right the chancery two famous footballers would choose. Hmm, I'd like to meet them one day, that'll definitely going to be interesting.”

Bernd grimaced. “I'd be more than happy to introduce you to each other. Maybe you can convince Mario Götze that you'd be the better choice to be his lawyer.”

“And risk that you'll quit our friendship because of two dorks still crazy in love with each other not being able to sort their shit out properly? No way.” Manuel shook his head.

Bernd gave him a sidelong glance. “Thank you very much for valuing my friendship so highly, Neuer,” he mocked, but he couldn't hide his own happy grin, and he felt warm inside at Manuel's platonic love declaration.

“You're very welcome, Leno. Okay, maybe you can even turn your rivalry into something useful and help those two dickheads to see reason again before their divorce will break entire football Germany's hearts.” Manuel mused, sipping from his tea again. “You really agreed to train Oscar's football team together with your... uhm, with 'Mr. ter Stegen'?” he then changed the topic, and Bernd scowled at him, because Manuel's tongue had almost slipped again – for the second time within five minutes.

“I didn't really have any other choice, did I? Thanks to your boyfriend, who let my poor son down!”

“Fiancé. You as my best man should know the difference between boyfriend and fiancé, Bernd Leno. Even though I might have to reconsider my poor choice if you'll keep on insulting Tommy,” Manuel said darkly, and Bernd rolled his eyes, but he mumbled a defiant “sorry for that,” anyway, just in case that Manuel would actually think about choosing another best man for his wedding in a couple of months if he didn't apologize to him for accusing Thomas of being unfaithful and selfish.

Manuel's face was sympathetic when he looked at Bernd. “Thomas was really sorry for that, but he really couldn't say no to them, Bernd. He tried to coach both teams, but he was still sitting at his desk to correct the English tests of his classes, and there are more tests waiting for him. His own school has to come first, and as long as he couldn't train his own school's team, it was okay that he helped Mr. Heynckes as one of his mentors, but he really couldn't miss this chance.”

Bernd nodded. “Yes, I know, Manu. I'll find a way to work together with ter Stegen, no matter how annoying he will be.”

Manuel leaned back and crossed his arms before his chest. “It would be helpful if you had someone by your side, Bernd. You really should at least try to find yourself a nice girl... or boyfriend.”

Bernd almost spilled his tea all over the coffee table, staring at his friend in shock. “Pardon me?” he choked out when he could breathe again, but Manuel just shrugged. “How long has it been since you and Susi broke up? Yes, I know what you say, that work and Oscar are keeping you too busy, and that you're happy the way things are. But really – when was the last time you got laid properly?”

“Uhm, none of your business, Neuer!” Bernd spluttered, making Manuel's eyebrows traveling upwards. “Uuhu, really, that long? It's about fucking time to change that, don't you think so? A proper sex life would do miracles to your mood and your patience, I can assure you that much.”

Bernd gaped and spluttered some more, his ears burning bright red with embarrassment. “I can't believe that we're having this talk,” he gasped, but Manuel just shrugged again. “That's what friends are for, aren't they? Is there really no one you feel attracted to or find nice and worthy to get to know them better?” he wanted to know, regarding Bernd closely from across the coffee table.

Bernd stared back, but it wasn't Manuel's face he was seeing, but Marc's, and he almost choked again, trying to push the image away but failing miserably. Manuel narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched silently several emotions flicker over Bernd's face before he had finally regained his composure, the mere thought of what him thinking of Marc-André ter Stegen when asked who he found attractive actually implied too scary to take a closer look at it.

“Hmm, I thought so,” Manuel finally stated, and now it was Bernd's turn to narrow his eyes. “What were you thinking?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing important. Just promise me that you'll at least think about my words, Bernd?”

“We'll see, Manu, we'll see,” Bernd gave back, not willing to have a talk about his (non-existing) sex life after his horrible day. “Now, be a good friend and tell me what I can do to avoid killing... my colleague within the first training already. I've never trained small boys, and having to do that together with him will be... a challenge at least, so anything you or Thomas can tell me would be helpful to go through this without throttling... _him_.”

An evil grin curled at the corners of Manuel's mouth, and Bernd took a cushion to throw it at his friend. “Don't you dare, Manuel Neuer. Don't you dare saying out loud what I could read in your face!” he snarled, and Manuel doubled over with laughter, not even trying to defend himself when Bernd threw more cushions at him. Finally, he raised his hands in defeat, wiping the tears of laughter from his face. “Fine, I'll help you, but only if you'll stop trying to kill me by suffocating me with your pillows.”

Bernd growled but stopped anyway. “I'm listening,” he demanded, and Manuel rolled his eyes fondly and cautiously lowered his hands down again.

“Very well. At first you'll have to sit down together to make a plan of every single training and a list of the boys and their positions. If both of you will stick to those plans and the list, you should be fine...” Manuel started, proving to Bernd that he knew much more about football training than he usually let it show. Thomas must have given him some advice before Manuel had left him for his visit, and Bernd was grateful that he had such friends.

He listened carefully to what Manuel told him, but he couldn't forget what his friend had actually wanted to say before Bernd had thrown the cushion at him:

_“Why don't you just sleep with him, Bernd? Sex can solve a lot of problems, and it'll definitely make you feel better. Hate sex is much better than hate fights will ever be, so if you don't want to kill him, just sleep with him and you'll be fine.”_


	4. Body Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, bodies say more than spoken words, one only has to pay attention to know how the other one is feeling or what they're thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Khalehla,
> 
> I hope everything went well! Take your time with reading and commenting, the next chapter will come much slower as I have a busied week ahead of me and won't have so much time to write, but I wanted to post this one before work starts again. <33

Marc tried to focus on his work after he'd put Alex to bed like in old times when his son had been younger, taking his time to sit on the edge of his bed and talk to his sweet boy for a few minutes before switching the lights off and leaving Alex' room.

His son had been much more relaxed, his pliant body snuggled comfortably under the covers proving to Marc that their talk, the movie and the pizza had done miracles to Alex' state. He'd assured him again that he was fine with Oscar becoming his friend, and Alex had already been asleep when Marc had closed the door behind himself, this time without tears staining his cheeks.

His own worries didn't want to fade that quickly though, and sorting things out with Bernd wouldn't be as easy as sorting things out between Lexi and Bernd's son would be. They weren't ten-year-old boys anymore, and there was also the big problem of them having to work 'together' – or rather against each other – because of the divorce of Marco Reus and Mario Götze.

Marc was damn sure that Bernd would hold him responsible for everything Mr. Götze did or wanted Marc to do for him, and his counterpart would surely take his anger out on him when they were trying to train the football team, as a valve for his feelings and with the justification of Marc making the divorce of Germany's famous football couple harder than necessary. Marc's neck and head were already starting to hurt from all the tension he felt, and he rubbed the nape of his neck with his hand, but the pain just wouldn't fade, and he could see how stiff he was when he passed the mirror hanging next to the wardrobe in the hallway of his new house that still didn't really feel like home to him.

He went to the kitchen to brew himself some tea, holding his phone in his hand to call one of his best friends. Julian always knew how to cheer him up or offer comfort, and Marc hoped for some kind words and sympathy after his horrible day.

Julian picked up after the second ringing, just as if he knew how badly Marc needed to talk to him. “Hi, Marc!” he said in a cheerful voice, and Marc took his mug and carried it over to his living room to make himself comfortable on his couch, which was difficult with a hurting and stiff neck.

“Hi, Jule,” he groaned, knowing that he was sounding pathetic, but he just couldn't help it. “Oh, oh, you had a bad day?” Julian asked, sounding slightly distorted through the line, but his concern was audible, and Marc allowed his body to relax marginally. “You have no idea!” he whined, and Julian made a sympathetic sound. “Go on, tell me what's wrong, Marc,” he encouraged him, and Marc had only waited for that and started to retell his day meticulously.

Julian proved once more that he was a real good friend when Marc was finally finished, his throat sore after all the talking but feeling much lighter after sharing his story with someone who didn't hate him, because Jule didn't go straight to asking him questions about the famous Mario Götze, but picked up on his future job as a football trainer.

“Hmm, regarding what I know from the things you told me about your complicated relationship with Bernd, this is indeed going to be tricky,” he mused, and Marc rolled his eyes and slumped against the backrest of the couch. “I don't have a relationship with Bernd fucking Leno!” he groused, and he could literally see Julian shrugging his shoulders. “Sure you do. Your hate for each other ties you together like only love could do otherwise. You'd be lost without one another, because you wouldn't have someone you can blame and hate if you didn't have each other.”

“Jule! You're supposed to be my friend!” Marc whined, and Julian chuckled through the white noise that was louder than usually. Maybe it was just Marc's ears protesting against Bernd being his co-trainer in the future (because there was no way that Marc would be Bernd's co-trainer and let him take the lead, right?), but the noise was there, a constant noise in his ear, and it was getting on Marc's nerves.

“I am your friend, Marc, but I'm right with that, ain't I?”

Yes, he was, as hard it was for Marc to admit that. “But what shall I do? How am I supposed to make this work? Bernd won't suddenly play nice and stop insulting me whenever he can, even if there are young schoolboys around.”

“How about you? How often do you pay him back when given the chance to do so, and this regardless of other people within earshot?” Julian wanted to know, and Marc grumbled something unintelligible and sipped from his tea to buy himself some time.

“You know, you should actually try to kiss each other and make out instead of going for each other's throats every single time. That would keep you busied and from insulting each other quite effectively, wouldn't it?”

“JULIAN?!” Marc spat his tea over the coffee table, starting to cough violently.

“Just saying, Marc,” Julian stated unmoved when Marc could breathe again without bursting into another coughing fit. “It would also be helpful when it comes to your problem with being the two lawyers of Mario Götze and Marco Reus. If they see that even sworn archenemies can sort their problems out, then maybe they'll be able to do the same instead of getting divorced.”

“I'm hanging up now, Jule. You're a bad friend,” Marc pouted, but his headache and the sharp pain in his neck were gone, and Marc felt much more relaxed than he'd felt for the whole day.

“No, you won't. You still want my advice about how to work together with Bernd when it comes to your sons and the training,” Julian said, far too smug and sure of himself for Marc's liking. But he was right, and Marc let out a sigh and said: “Okay, just spill it. And you'll better stop teasing me, because if you don't, then I will have a heart-to-heart talk with Erik about some things the next time I'm around,” he threatened, grinning smugly as well when Julian squeaked in response. “You wouldn't do that!” he objected, and Marc chuckled. “Yes, I totally would. How is he, by the way?”

“Fine, he's fine, and luckily far away enough from you and your heart-to-heart talks, ter Stegen. Okay, you'll have to make a plan for each training session with the things you want to do with them, and you should make a list with the boys and their positions. With plans you have both agreed to beforehand, you should be able to work together without too much arguing and yelling. Is it possible that Thomas informs you about the team before you'll start? Or that you'll be watching one session with him still as the trainer to write down some notes and see the boys playing?”

Julian was one of the youth trainers of the club where Alex had played football before their move to Dortmund, so he knew a whole lot more about training than Marc did, and Marc was grateful for his advice.

“That should be possible,” he agreed, feeling relieved, and he felt consoled and actually sleepy when he wished Julian goodnight and ended the call fifteen minutes later. Training the school football team together with Bernd would still be a challenge, but Marc was much more positive that they wouldn't kill each other right during the first hour now. He went through a quick bedtime routine and pulled the covers over his tired body with a contented sigh of sleepy drowsiness, the last thought in his mind before he drifted off not as scary and unwelcome as it had been when Julian had first suggested it:

_'If Bernd Leno tries to yell at you and insult you the next time, just shut him up with a deep kiss and see what he's doing then...'_

 

***

 

Mr. ter Stegen was already sitting behind his desk when Mario entered his office after having knocked at the door and waited for the following “come in,” and he was glad that Mathilda wasn't staring at his back like so many other receptionists would do, but minding her own business and treating him just like a normal young man and client instead of the famous footballer.

ter Stegen rose to his feet to greet him with a smile, but Mario noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the stiffness of his posture. It was important for footballers to be able to read the body language of their teammates and their opponents, which often said much more than words spoken words actually did, and Mr. ter Stegen was obviously not really happy about Mario as his new client. His smile was perfectly polite and welcoming, but his eyes were shaded and his features guarded, and he kept his distance to Mario after their handshake.

“Please, have a seat, Mr. Götze. I've set up our contract, and we should talk about your options today,” ter Stegen said as he busied himself with pouring Mario a cup of coffee and adding milk and sugar to the saucer. This way he didn't need to meet Mario's eyes, his straight back a protecting wall between them.

“Thank you, Mr. ter Stegen. You're not really happy about being my lawyer, are you?” Mario asked straight forwardly, not wanting to beat around the bush. ter Stegen flinched, finally turning around to look at him. “Is it that obvious?” he asked sheepishly, and Mario smiled sadly. “No, you're hiding it very well, but I've learned to read body language when I became a footballer, so yes, to me it's clear that you're having a problem with me. I'd like to know what it is before signing the contract, because I really want you as my lawyer, but I need to be sure that we want the same thing.”

ter Stegen slumped down on his own chair, stirring his own coffee. “I don't have a problem with you, Mr. Götze, really not. I have to apologize that I showed my discomfort so clearly to you, but it's not your fault. I had a bad day yesterday because my son was fighting with Mr. Leno's son in school – my colleague your husband has chosen to be his lawyer...”

“I see.” Mario pursed his lips. “And you're fearing that safeguarding my interests will interfere with your friendship with Mr. Leno and affect your sons in the process.”

To Mario's surprise, ter Stegen was blushing furiously. “Uhm, Mr. Leno and I are not exactly friends – even though we've known each other for a very long time. We were classmates as well, but it was only three months ago that we met again after years, here in Mr. Löw's chancery.”

Mario's eyes widened in understanding. ter Stegen shifted his weight uncomfortably, and Mario could see that he was surprised about his openness towards his new client himself pretty much.  
“Alex' principal, Mr. Heynckes, asked Bernd and me to train the school's football team together, which means that we'll have to train our sons as well, who didn't get along with each other so far.” ter Stegen added when Mario remained silent, frowning at himself. “I'm sorry, Mr. Götze. This is none of your business, I shouldn't load my worries upon you.” But his shoulders had lost some of their tension, and Mario could see how relieved the other man was that he'd been able to get this off his chest.

“No, it's fine, Mr. ter Stegen. If we sign a contract, then we both need to be open to each other. I can see why you're worried that being my lawyer could affect your personal life. But I can assure you that I'm not interested in any kind of public mud-slinging. Marco thinks that getting divorced is the only solution for our problem, and I'll do everything I can do to make his plans for a quick divorce be in vain, even though he will hate me for that. I still love him, and I'm doing that for him as much as I'm doing that for myself. So will you please help me to show him how stupid his plans are, Mr. ter Stegen?” he asked, and this time ter Stegen's smile was not only a polite mask, but a real and genuine smile.

“Yes, I will, Mr. Götze,” he said, and Mario smiled back, and offered his hand to him for a second time. “Please call me Mario,” he said, and ter Stegen took it for a firm handshake that proved to Mario that he really wanted to be his lawyer. “It's Marc, then,” he agreed, and Mario let out the breath he'd been holding and leaned back in his chair to take a sip from the excellent coffee, his own body melting against the leather now that he didn't need to be afraid that ter Stegen would turn him down any longer.

“May I ask you a personal question, Marc?” he inquired, and Marc didn't go back to his stiff posture, but just looked curiously at him. “Of course, what do you want to know, Mario?”

“How is it to be a father, a single father above all things? Marco's biggest fear is to raise a child by himself for the first years while I'm in Munich, and nothing I'm saying convinces him that he won't be alone and doesn't need to worry about that.”

Marc didn't hesitate for even a second with his response, and the smile on his face was the smile of a happy man. “Being a father is the best thing in the world. I wouldn't want to miss any single minute with Alex. Being a single father was hard sometimes, especially during my exams and my legal clerkship, when Alex was still so young, but my family and my friends helped me, so I was always fine. It's still hard when Alex is sick and I don't have someone to take care of him, even more now after our move, but I manage, and we're fine.”

Mario nodded slowly. “Yes, you look like you're a happy father. Maybe it will help Marco understand that he doesn't need to be afraid.”

“Am I allowed a personal question, too, Mr. Göt... Mario?” Marc asked, and Mario knew that it was only fair to give Marc some insight in his private life in return. “Just go ahead, you're my lawyer, you need to know everything.”

Marc blushed faintly. “Not everything. But your husband wants to get divorced because of your possible transfer to Munich, so I should know more about your motives and why it's so important to you to play for the FCB. It didn't work out so well the first time, isn't that so?”

Mario chewed on his bottom lip. “Yes, my first seasons with the FCB weren't really good ones, and that's actually one of the reasons why I want to accept their offer and try it again. I struggled a lot after my years in the red colors of Bayern München. I needed a long time to find back to the easiness and the joy of playing football, and I still remember all the things that were to be read in the media and what people said about me. It's important to me to prove myself before my retirement, and I'd thought that Marco would understand that. But he obviously doesn't. His hate for the FCB goes so deep that he's blind for anything else.”

“Hmm, what about you, Mario? Are you open for his wishes and his worries?” Marc asked, and his body language had changed again, he was attentive and only the professional lawyer now, not the young single father any longer. Mario wasn't sure whether he appreciated the change or would have liked to talk to Marc as the father for a while longer.

“I share his wishes, Marc. I want to have a family with him within the next years, but I'm too young to retire now, and I'm finally at my best again. Why can't he support me for two more years before fulfilling his own wishes?”

“Only you can find the answer to that. Have you ever really talked about it? Not argued or fought, but talked?” Marc inquired, and Mario shrugged his shoulders. “It's always ending in a fight quickly, from his side, and I don't know why.”

“I see. Hmm, you shouldn't give up trying, though, Mario.”

“I won't, Marc.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then Marc cleared his throat and pulled some sheets of paper out of his printer. “Let's fix our contract then,” he said, and Mario nodded with visible relief on his face, taking the pencil to sign the contract and make sure that Marc would help him winning Marco back, no matter what he had to do to make that happen.

 

***

 

Bernd had spent the morning mostly with talking to Mr. Reus and fixing their contract, and he was grateful that he didn't need to be in the court room later on that day. There had been two other clients after Marco Reus, and he knew that he hadn't been as attentive as he should have been, but too much had happened since the previous day, and he was still tired after a restless night.

Oscar was spending the afternoon on a birthday party of one of his classmates, and Bernd was actually glad that he had some time to himself and didn't need to be careful of every single word and every single look for a few hours. He'd come home early, and he sat down at the kitchen table to make the list Manuel had suggested, writing down the names of Oscar's teammates he knew from the times when he'd watched them play when he'd come to pick his son up after training and had had enough time to watch them play for a while.

The sound of the doorbell came unexpectedly, and Bernd made his way to the door, just to tense up when he saw who was standing on his threshold. He was already suffering from a bad headache because of all the tension in his shoulders that simply wouldn't fade, and he suppressed a groan when another sharp pain shot through his neck at his violent flinching.

“What do you want, ter Stegen?” he grumbled, and Marc sighed and looked as if he wanted to snap back, but he schooled his features into a mask of faked calmness. Bernd didn't let himself be fooled, though, he knew Marc well enough to see through him, Marc's straight back and shoulders a clear sign that Marc wanted to be everywhere rather than standing before Bernd's front door.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice carefully controlled, and Bernd thought for a second about letting him stand right there and close the door before his nose again, but he knew that he couldn't do that, even though Marc must notice his fight or flight reaction.

“If you insist,” he said, earning an irritated glare from his counterpart. “Alex is still in the after school center, so I thought it to be a good time to talk about our jobs as their new football trainers.” Marc explained, and Bernd knew when he was defeated.

“Come in then.” He stepped to the side with visible reluctance, and Marc moved as if he had to enter a house with a ticking bomb that would explode at any minute, keeping his eyes on Bernd without trying to take a curious look around. Bernd closed the door and led his visitor to his kitchen, briefly musing about being a bad host and not offering his former rival anything to drink, but then decided that he wanted to show that he was mature and capable of learning from his mistakes.

(Not that he really thought that treating Marc-André fucking ter Stegen the way he'd always done was really a mistake, but he _could_ be mature and reasonable if he chose to be.)

Marc looked kinda lost and almost scared, standing in the middle of Bernd's kitchen, and Bernd rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely at the other chair. “Sit down and don't keep the mouth opener, ter Stegen, it's annoying. Want something to drink?” he said, and Marc swallowed and clenched his fists around the notepad in his hand, but he sat down and shook his head.

“No, thanks. I want to live for a while longer.”

Bernd resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and just shrugged, pouring himself a glass of water, because he really needed something to drink while dealing with his archenemy.

“If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use poison, ter Stegen. Too easy to track back,” he remarked wryly after taking a large gulp from his water, leaning against the kitchen counter and looking down at Marc.

Marc had changed into more comfy clothes, wearing blue jeans and a simple white tee like Bernd was wearing one, and Bernd had to admit that he looked good and far more attractive than he should be allowed to do.

Marc's body was still stiff like a poker, but he relaxed a little bit now, his curiosity making him forget his discomfort and anger for a moment. “I see,” he said, “so how would you kill me instead, Leno?” he wanted to know, and damn it, but Manuel's words floated Bernd's mind again unbidden, and he felt himself coloring red. (The words Manuel hadn't spoken out loud, but which had been clear to read in his face.)

_Hate sex is so much better than hate fights, and it would make you feel so much better..._

He almost choked on his water, cursing inwardly and hoping that Marc wouldn't notice his embarrassment. “I'll tell you when it comes to that,” he croaked out when he trusted his voice again to form coherent words and sound casual enough, and Marc narrowed his eyes, his gaze dropping to Bernd's mouth for a split second. “Are you going to stand there all day long so you can stare down on me? It's not that I really want to be here, Leno. I just want to make sure that our boys will win this tournament.” Marc finally said with a huff when Bernd didn't move, looking back up into Bernd's eyes.

Marc had beautiful eyes, and Bernd had known that before, but he had refused to admit that before today. Whatever it was that Manu had stirred in him with his statement about Bernd's sex life, it was something Bernd really didn't want to feel, at least not when it was directed at Marc-André ter Stegen. Hearing him talking about _their_ boys only added to Bernd's confusion, and he really hated being confused, even more than he hated Marc at times.

“I want that, too,” he said, crossing the kitchen to sit down on his chair at last. “That Oscar will win this tournament, I mean... together with Alex of course,” he added when he saw the look of hurt in Marc's eyes. (They were really beautiful, deep and dark and endless, eyes someone could drown in if they weren't careful enough. Not that Bernd would ever be in danger to drown in them of course, really not.)

Marc had tensed up again, his features a lifeless mask of his usual self, and Bernd blinked in irritation that he noticed the change in his body language and his demeanor so easily. When had he started to watch Marc in a way that he was aware of even the slightest shifting and how Marc guarded his expression to hide his feelings behind a protective wall?

“We're for once on the same page then, I guess,” Marc now said, opening his notepad to push it over the table in Bernd's direction. “I have written down some notes about the boys and their positions. I talked to a friend yesterday, who is a youth trainer in Alex' former club, and he told me some things we can do to make this easier for both of us...”

Bernd stared at him in surprise, blurting out without thinking: “I did the same, talking to a friend to get some advice, I mean. He told me to make a list of the players and their positions and set up a training schedule before each training session and stick to it, at least at the beginning...”

“My friend told me the same,” Marc said, looking a little bit breathless all of a sudden, his eyes wandering to Bernd's lips once again, and Bernd's gaze dropped down to his mouth as well, thinking that kissing him senseless instead of just strangling him might perhaps really be the better solution for their ongoing hate and rivalry. This way Alex wouldn't become an orphan, and Oscar wouldn't be the son of a criminal and having to visit his father in prison in the future.

Maybe he would actually try it the next time they fought, only to prove Manu that he'd been wrong of course, not because he really wanted to kiss Marc-André ter Stegen. Because really, who would want to kiss someone with such a weird name and such bottomless dark eyes? Bernd certainly not, and he'd only do it to show Manuel that he was fine and didn't need any advice regarding his sex life from anybody, not now, and not in the near future.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This is how it starts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581040) by [Khalehla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla)




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